


come crashing in

by ever_neutral



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-12
Updated: 2011-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ever_neutral/pseuds/ever_neutral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It must have slipped out, long before, on lazy afternoons, between filthy sheets, in sharp gasps, in shaky breaths. He might have yelled it a couple of times in ecstasy. Why not. It'd be like him.</p><p>[4.07]</p>
            </blockquote>





	come crashing in

"It means I still love you."

 

But what does that really even mean? By the look on Effy's face, the defiance in her jaw as she brushes past him -- pretty much nothing. 

 

Still, Cook's an observant guy -- that's why he's able to catch the surprise in her pause before she replies, the way she hugs herself even tighter as she walks away, as though to protect herself from the harsh truths of life as well as the rain battering her frame. Maybe even to console her own grief at what she's left behind. Well, a man can dream. 

 

Yeah, yeah. If she's grieving over anyone, it's not him. 

 

At this thought, he throws his cigarette on the ground, stomps it under his shoe. And then he's following her, down the miserable street, like there's a wire attaching him to her. This is a bad idea. He can't help it. 

 

He's barely seen her, lately. That's just one of the ways this year is nothing like the last. _CookandEffy_ used to be a bad habit they both counted on. Everybody knew. Now everything's all _a bit of a mindfuck_ , and _he should know._

 

She probably hasn't missed him at all. 

 

He's caught up to her, and she doesn't even turn to look at him, just says, "Thought I told you to --"

 

"Yeah, I know, 'piss off' and all that. Missed you, too, sweetcakes."

 

He says it like it's nothing, to hide the fact he's done nothing but _miss_. Miss everything. Especially the fact that she used to give loads better back to him than "piss off". _What has Freddie done to her?_ Pretty weak, that. He'll let it pass, since she's been mental and all that. 

 

"I mean it, Cook. You can't be around me. I'm not fucking okay."

 

"Yeaaah, heard about that," he drawls. "'Nother thing we got in common, then. Both been inside now. In a manner of speaking." He's still not sure how that happened. The Effy he knew was a pillar. Nothing on this sorry Earth could knock her down. It's what he liked most about her. The fact that he would never break her heart. ( _He's always been a masochist._ ) 

 

But Freddie can. Freddie's a rock. Freddie can shatter stone.

 

_He doesn't hate Freddie. He doesn't hate Freddie. He doesn't hate --_

__

"I trust that the loony bin treated you well?" he says over the noise in his head.

 

"What do you care?"

 

"What d'you mean, what do I --" He falters. "'Course I care, Eff. Mates don't let mates go mental." Fucking hell. She really does believe it didn't ( _doesn't_ ) mean anything. 

 

He should have told her sooner. 

 

Was that the first time, just then? It can't have been. It must have slipped out, long before, on lazy afternoons, between filthy sheets, in sharp gasps, in shaky breaths. He might have yelled it a couple of times in ecstasy. Why not. It'd be like him. He just doesn't have a fucking filter. It wouldn't have mattered, because they both knew it was mindless. 

 

He should have made her believe it sooner. 

 

It wouldn't have made a difference. 

 

She's stopped dead on the footpath, and he realises she's finally looking at him, straight in the eye. He can see each drop of rain on her lashes.

 

"We're not _mates_ , Cook," she tells him, every word like a hammer. "We never were."

 

They stare at each other for a beat, then two, three. Her face is doing its damnedest to look stony, but there's a desperate spark in her eye that wants him to keep pressing.

 

"Eff," he finally says. "What's gotten into you? What've they been putting in your head?"

 

She blinks, all of a sudden a startled rabbit. Composes herself just as quickly. Turns away, starts walking again. "Just stay out of it, Cook. Please." 

 

 _Please_. That's new. They're not usually ones for politeness, least of all with each other. It apparently provokes some sort of chivalry in him, because he's saying, "Listen, Eff, lemme just walk you home. It's fucking pouring."

 

The two sentences don't have much to do with each other. It'll rain whether he's with her or not. That's just the way it is, and he'll have to get used to it. But he still wants to walk her home. 

 

She continues on a few paces, not looking at him, before she finally answers, "Okay. But just walk me home. Not… anything else."

 

He nods. "I can live with that." He's tempted to put his arm round her then, to shield her from the rain, maybe. Or, maybe, just 'cause he _wants to_. 

 

He shoves his hands in his pockets instead. 

 

They walk. He thinks. 

 

 _Can_ he live with that? Not touching her, ever again? Just being her friend -- if that -- because she wants it, because that's what'll make her happy? Can he live with that? Can he?

 

Maybe he can't. But he will.


End file.
